You're Just As Sane As I Am
by TinaBean
Summary: Luna always loved watching other people. Since she was a young girl, she has picked up on everybody's quirks and mannerisms, mentally recording them into her head. But since she came to Hogwarts, she has had a special target to watch; Neville Longbottom.
1. A Shadow In The Night

I have always been a quiet child. Most believe the thinkers are the crazy ones. I disagree greatly. I have a habit. I do not believe this to be odd enough to call a quirk, but some may think exactly this. When I walk the corridors of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I watch everybody around me. I watch the first years, puzzled by their amateur knowledge of the school grounds, yet entranced by the beauty of what is around them. Since I came to this school of wonder, I have had a special subject whom I take great joy in watching; Neville Longbottom.

It is 2:30 in the morning. My eyes fly open from my sleep. There is a light tapping on my window, just to the left of me. I can barely make out the darkened shapes of my Ravenclaw dormitary. I make a move to get out of bed; my nightgown is twisted in all sorts of directions. I hear Cho Chang mutter in her sleep, followed by an exasperated-sounding sigh. She does this quite often in her sleep, I have noticed. I neatly fold the covers off of my pale, slender body, and shuffle towards the window. "Lumos.", I whisper. A dim, pastel yellow illuminates the end of my wand, giving me just the right amount of light to not trip over anything, and find the right path to the window.

I lightly press my fingers to the cold, stained glass and lower my face to the surface of this glimpse at the night. I suddenly see a small, translucent shadow hovering just behind the piece of glass separating me and the night sky.

Peeves. What is he doing at my window? I do strongly hope this is not one of his childish tricks, or I will send the Bloody Baron after his scrawny remains of a person. And that, I know, will not make him happy in the least. "Intermitto," I mutter, taking the pastel glow off the tip of my wooden wand. "Intercludo!" I say, a pinch louder. Cho abruptly moans in her sleep, I cannot make out what she is saying. Not much different than when she's awake. I remember I must be quiet, for I could by penalize if I wake a roomate up. The Intercludo spell makes a silent beam of hot light erupt from my wand, and I cut a small circle out of the stained glass window's pattern, just enough to talk into and hear Peeves.

"Peeves, what are you doing? Its 2:30 in the morning!" I whisper lightly. "Good evening, Loony-Luna! I have come to do you a favor, you see! And you wouldn't even know if it wasn't for me! Your ickle-Neville is down at the kitchen, having a snack! I have done you a favor, you see! I have helped in the stalking!" He said in a sing-song voice. Peeves...helped me? How does that help me?

**Then it hit me.**

I have just realized the meaning of Peeve's riddle. He is telling me that Neville is down in the kitchens, he must have asked the house elves to get him something to eat. I have noticed Neville's eating habits are quite odd, he only after noon and after 8:00. I decide that I am going to visit him.

I glide my fingers over the perimeter of my trunk, trying to find the latches. "Alohamora." I breathe. A dim, bright blue glow ignites the tip of my wand. The shade of blue reminds me of the Ravenclaw colors. I lightly tap each latch, unlocking them as I go. I gently lift the top off, and grab a Quibbler t-shirt, one my daddy gave me. I slip it on, with jeans my mother bought me when she visited the muggle country America.

I do not bother with shoes, I simply make my way down the hallway barefoot. I do this often enough, I do not feel the cold stone under my feet anymore. I walk through the Ravenclaw Common Room, there is somebody asleep on the couch. I cannot make out who it is, they look so peaceful.

I quietly exit the Common Room, and try the door to the grand staircase. Locked. Of course, they tightened security after You-Know-Who's return. "Alohamora," I whisper again. If only I had Harry's invisibility cloak, this all would be so much easier! I push the door the to the grand staircase open. Tiny people such as myself have such trouble doing tasks that are mandatory here, I wonder why the doors are so thick and heavy! At least I am growing arm strength.

There are prefects standing at every staircase. I need to find one an invisibility cloak, and FAST. "Minime Tempus!" I exclaim before the prefect yells out to me. I have ten minutes to run to the kitchens, for time will start again in ten minutes. I push past the prefect, a look of shock and anger scrawled on his face, but frozen solid from my spell.

I walk, feeling electric coursing inside my legs. After a few seconds, I break into a run, but I am stopped dead at the edge of the fourth floor staircase. Time is frozen. That means...so are the stairs. How will I be able to run to the first floor now? The distance between me and the stairs is at least thirty feet, I surely cannot jump a distance such as that. I then remember a charm Neville taught me in Herbology, to pull the Mandrake from the Planting pot second year. "Venio mea!", I shout. Slowly, like a cautious unicorn, the staircase begins to creep and slide toward me.

I am running, running toward the painting of the fruit bowl. The yellow of the banana is inching closer to me, I run faster. But in a second, I am on the ground. Glass is strewn everywhere. What happened? There is a blue-green liquid everywhere, and shards of glass are dug into the skin of my entire arm.

Blood is mixing with the liquid, adding a crimson tint to the liquid, turning it grey.

Before I realize what had just occurred, an intense pain shoots through my right arm, covered in glass, blood, and blue liquid. I feel as if my arm is on fire, the burning pain growing more intense every second. I cry out in pain, and grab my arm. I desperately try to wipe the liquid out of my arm, but the wounds are too deep. The liquid is inside my arm, lining the inner wound.

Trying to ignore the pain, though I still cannot get up, I search the liquid and shards of glass for some sort of label, to see what the potion was. The label was wet, I tried to scrape it to me with my good hand. The label read, "D Poi". The ink was smeared, unreadable. I thought back to potions. What did we create today? D, D, D. That's it! Doxy Poison!

I felt my face turn white. Doxy poison most obviously kills the Doxy, but deteriorates human flesh at contact. I looked down at my bloody arm - my flesh was rotting with the passing seconds. I frantically began screaming any counter-curse I could conjure, nothing worked, nothing worked. All of the sudden, I heard somebody running down the hall behind me. The footsteps were coming my way.


	2. The Doxy Detour

After hearing these dainty footsteps echo in my head, I began to fall victim to a unbreakable haze. Everything was slowing down, swirling into colors I didn't know I had inside my head. _Clip, clap. Clip, clap. _Then I heard nothing but a loud, _Boooooooooom._

**And there was black.**

I woke up the next morning, with slight sparkles inside my eyes. The backs of my eyes were quite sore, but I didn't mind. What upset me truly was that I could not remember why I was in the Hospital Wing. More importantly, why is Neville at my side?

His eyes looked drained, his skin pale as usual. But today was different; his epidermis had a grey tint to it. His pale blue eyes darted, left, right, left, up, and then slowly closed. His body lowered and slithered into the medium brown wooden chair, he looked very uncomfortable. A large chunk of his mop-like hair slid off his scalp and curtained his sleep-deprived face.

I let out a weak cough, more like a wheeze than anything else. My lungs felt like raisins, my breathing was shallow and light. My entire right arm was thickly bandaged, so was my left. With much effort, I brought my small pale hand to my face, and felt rough cuts and stitches. My hand collided into a tender bruise and I quickly thrust it back down to my lap.

I softly murmured, "Neville. Wha-what happened?". His head snapped up. His drooping, weak eyes were now larger than his irises, his pupils big. He squeaked, his voice cracking after every other syllable, "LuNA! YoUR awake! I can'T BELIeve you are OKAy! Thank MERlin!". I wheezed a weak giggle, which caused my face to hurt quite a bit.

I breathed, "What happened to me? I don't remember these at all!" I flashed my bandaged arms, and pointed to my cut and bruised face. He laughed and said, "Maybe it's a good thing you don't remember. It was horrible. I walked into the hallway that leads to the kitchens, to thank the elves once again for making me dinner, and there you were! Unconscious, bruised, cut up, and covered in glass, blood, and Doxy poison! I didn't know what to do, so I levitated you to the hospital wing, I walked along side your unconscious body. Mrs. Pomfrey was quite upset, I remember her saying, 'Good Heavens, now how did Luna manage to spill this mess all over herself? Kids, kids.' Then she just started erm…tutting for about an hour, as she bandaged you up and put you in bed."

Part of me felt very good somebody came, and cared on top of that. It was even better that it was Neville. Growing up, I have always felt alone, or lonely as some would say. I do not elude to this to anybody, they just think of me as crazy. You know, it isn't fun to know that everybody that walks past you in this place thinks you're off your rocker. It makes me happy to know somebody thinks about me. It's a caring feeling. One I do not feel, or have not felt in a long time.

I motioned Neville to come close, I could not speak loud at the moment. I managed to whisper, "Thank you Neville. You're a good friend. I'll try to take care of you next time your in a classic Neville predicament.". I laughed at this, and added, "And only Merlin knows what that will be!". He laughed as well, and said, "Thanks Luna. That's…nice to know?". I suddenly looked at the clock and urged, "Neville! Class starts in five minutes! You had better get going, I'll talk to you later! If your late to McGonagall's class, I think I may know what your next predicament may be…". His eyes widened, which caused my heart to race. He yelled as he ran out the door, "I'll see you later!", and was gone in a second. I then heard a loud thump, papers rustling, and a muffled, "I'm okay!" shortly following his leaving.

I looked around the Hospital Wing. Buff stones lined the walls, with stained glass windows in colors more than I can name. The white, basic beds lined the walls, with curtains above every window. I looked down; my hair is strewn about on my torso, I am in my Quibbler T-shirt. But my jeans were gone. I immediately assumed this is the doing of a certain type of creature, one I do not know. I sighed heavily; they will come back to me.

Madam Pomfrey hustled over to my bed, and asked, "Oh Luna, you are awake! How are you feeling?". I coughed loudly, and wheezed, "Most likely a little better than last night…". She only gives me a look of confusion and then snorts with laughter. She mutters something under her steady, heaving breath, though I do not hear. Then I felt a jolt of sharp pain, channeling up my arm. I gasp followed by a shallow shriek. Madam Pomfrey is poking my arm, inspecting my wounds.

"Well, they're pretty bad. Are you left handed or right?" she says. After I moment of confusion, I replied, "Erm, don't two rights make a…left?". She only laughs. But Iam used to this from the many people at my school, I do not mind. Fighting her laughs, she broke the words into speech, "No, Luna, do you write with your left or right hand?" Then I realized her reasoning of speech. "Oooooh! Well, why didn't you ask me that? I'm a left handed writer." I exclaim. She rolled her eyes, and said, "I shouldn't have asked. Either way, you won't be writing with either hand for a while. Nor will you be casting spells. I hope when you get better you will think wisely of when to get out of bed, and for Merlin's sake, to check your robes before you run!".

I do not reply. This was because I felt myself falling into a deeper haze than last night, and before I knew it, I was dreaming. I launched my eyes open, trying my hardest to stay awake. Feeling a prick in my neck, followed by a feeling of cool run through my body, I start to feel drowsy. I reach up to my neck with much effort, and feel a tiny needle. Madam Pomfrey. She must have stuck me with something. But slowly before I know it, the Hospital Wing was drifting away from me, and Madam Pomfrey's _clip clap_ of her shoe becomes more and more distant with the passing seconds.

I awake many hours later, I know this from the color of the sky. The once bright blue sky, accented with white clouds in the forms of dogs and dragons, is now a sky of blackened ash, dotted with white stars, forming constellations, many at that. One thing I admire most about Hogwarts is the mysterious night skies. They always seem to be telling a story, or sending a message. I am very hungry, is there any food? My wand lies on the nightstand. I look around, my pale blue eyes darting in different directions, checking for Madam Pomfrey. It seems she is somewhere else. Perhaps, at the Quittage game, waiting for the weekly injured.

I slowly, carefully slide my bandaged hand toward the nightstand. The pain in my arm has melted into a low, dulling throb. I extend my short, pale fingers extra long so I don't have to reach too far. Steady, steady. I clasp my hands around the wand, and grip it tightly.

I could not see, the darkness was too overwhelming to my tired eyes. The pulsing pain in my knuckles became too much for my weak hands, and I dropped the wand. I heard the clicking of the wood on the cold, stone floor. This was just my luck, for after the second my wans stopped its click clicking on the floor, the door creaked open. I quickly shut my eyes, waiting for the sounds of a visitor. But there was silence.

This made me quite anxious. I was afraid to open my eyes, afraid to see what opened the door. I silently started to panic, after thoughts of Moaning Myrtle's fate flooded my mind like a cheap basement after a heavy downpour. I lay completely still, helpless if I was about to be attacked. The butterflies in my stomach morphed into angry Cornish pixies, violently throwing themselves against the walls of my stomach, and chewing on my insides.

Through my shut eyelids, I saw and felt the warmed of a pale, pastel light coming my way. My brain frantically tried to connect the dots, trying to figure out what it could be. I lowered it down to two options; the Basilisk's eyes, or somebody's Lumos charm. Either way, I was very afraid.

Then I heard a soft voice penetrate the silence, whispering, "Luna, are you awake?". Hermione. I wonder why she has come to see me? All the same, I smiled inside. Somebody else has come to visit me. I opened my eyes, only slightly. Hermione's eyes met mine, hers shot away. She greeted me, "Oh, hello Luna. I…wanted to see how you were doing in here.". This, yet intriguingly, touched me. Hermione is a very nice person, but I do not usually talk to her. I shot a look of confusion at her, but then smiled and she returned the favor.

"Well, my arms hurt quite a bit…but I have a feeling the boredom is more painful than anything else." I said in a small voice. She only smiled, but did not speak to me back. I only watched her, the candle flame flickering off her face, highlighting the red tones in her hair. The candlelight marched past the arch of her nose, her high cheekbones. Her shadow moved about on the opposite wall, stretched overly thin from her seat. We sat in silence for seemingly centuries.

The clip clapping of Madam Pomfrey's tiny black shoes briskly tapping the floor ended our pensive silence. She looked at Hermione, but I could not configure a label to call her facial expression. Her old, wrinkled face then fell to mine, her eyes widened. She gasped, "How in the name of - why are you awake, my dear? Surely Ms. Granger did not wake you up?". She grimaced at Hermione. Hermione did not seem at all afraid, only wearing a blank expression, with black flecks now present in her normally brown eyes.

She abruptly stood up from her chair, and quickly said, "I must be off. Studying to do. Good to know you're okay, Luna.". With those words only leaving her lips, she quickly left the Hospital Wing, leaving only Madam Pomfrey and myself. Madam Pomfrey sighed, and quietly asked, "Now, dear, would you like more painkillers?". I half screamed,

**"NO!".**


	3. The Dinner Companion

Inside the Hospital Wing, minutes passed like days, and days passed like years. Neville visited me often, bringing me Honeydukes candies and various objects having to do with Ravenclaw. These all made me smile quite, they made me feel...loved. I still wonder why Hermione really came to visit me. She never came back. Perhaps I am being paranoid, staying in this bed for a week has taken a sanity toll on me I do think.

A week and two days after the accident, Neville and Hermione came to the Hospital Wing to take me away. Madam Pomfrey helped me out of bed; she pulled the curtain to conceal myself changing. My old sneakers pitter-pattered down the familiar hall, accompanied by the scuffles of Neville's steps, and the click clicking of Hermione's feminine black Hogwarts-friendly heels. Her light curls bounced on fell about her shoulders as she walked, my long hair gently swerving. Neville watched us both.

We walked into the Great Hall. It was sandwich day! What a wonderful coming back gift from the House Elves, I wonder if they knew? Ginny stood up. Her crooked Ginny smile thrown onto her face, she hugged me quite aggressively. Ron only nodded; the twins smiled and greeted me. I prepared my sandwich, carefully adding each condiment carefully. I felt Neville's eyes on me, but I pretended to be paying attention to the sandwich. I munched and munched; it felt good to make my own food.

After lunch, I ran to my dormitory. I couldn't wait to go outside, now that my tiny but appreciative stomach was filled. I packed some apples, for the creatures. My usual pack of observing supplies were in my bag, and I started down the stairs. I made my way outside, and towards the forest. Light flakes of snow began to fall, making the scene all the more peaceful. I sat on the ground and looked around. The sunlight splattered through the tree branches, accented with birds of every color. The wind blew a low song; _dum, dum dum dum_. I hummed along to the imaginary song. I closed my eyes in contentment. This was what I liked having a pulse for. I felt as if I could have stayed there forever, just quietly humming my tune with nobody except the cold breeze and the forest.

I began to lose track of time. Before it felt as if thirty seconds passed, I noticed the sky a now dimly lit ash color, the Black Lake channeling a reflection of the castle on its mysterious surface. The majestic stained glass windows of the castle were aglow, their different colors illuminated, it looked warm inside. I left the apples and started to walk the distance to the castle. There were millions of stars; I wish I could count them. But I suppose I would get confused, and fall asleep. It isn't like that hasn't happened before.

In a matter of minutes I had walked myself up the Great Doors. Now I was faced with a new obstacle – getting the door open. I tugged one. Twice. I even gave it a hearty third try, but it was soon evident that I was not going to open these doors, no matter how strong my wishes were. "Domea virium." I spoke to my wand. I pressed my wand lightly to my right hand, and a slow but overwhelmingly constricting feeling coated my arm. I rubbed my hand together. I noticed the were getting very cold, so I had better move quickly. I lightly pulled on the artistically crafted handle, which was big as half my torso. The door creaked, squeaked, and reluctantly dragged itself open, the rust and dirt in it breaking apart as if I had awakened it from a deep sleep. I smiled to myself. Perhaps reading more than talking to people was paying off in more ways than I once thought.

Two large doors later, and a Professor Snape to explain to (he never bothered me too much, he tends to leave Ravenclaws alone), I heaved myself into the Great Hall for dinner. I vowed to never leave my house for a nighttime snack or Neville watching again. I found a seat at my table, near Rochelle Spelman, a girl in my class. I had never really watched her, so I did not know very much about her. I do believe all I know of her is her left eye is slightly greener then her right, and that she does not walk. She scuffles. I have not talked to her though, so I continued to watch her for further remembering of her personality.

I piled the food onto my plate; some ham, asparagus, exactly 17 French fries, caramelized onions, and 3 chicken dumplings. And a cup of chicken dumpling soup. I do believe this is the most food I have eaten in at least two years in one sitting. Rochelle picked her plate up and moved down a long way. I think I heard her mutter, "Psycho," As she went. Then I felt a warm body slide next to me. It was Neville. Oh, how I was happy to see him. I gave him a full smile, and he returned one back. "Are you feeling good?" he asked. That's nice. I like it when people ask me how I feel; it makes me feel cared for. I nodded shyly.

We ate and talked, about everything. We ended up walking up the stairs together to our dormitories, him telling me jokes about times he was in trouble and about his predicaments on the school grounds. He walked me to my common room, and ended the conversation by saying, "Well, er, I think this is your Common Room. Thanks for walking with me, Luna. Your very interesting to talk to.". I could not help myself but smile. "Yes," I breathed. "As are you. I'll see you tomorrow Neville…" I trailed off, turned and climbed through the doorway.


	4. DADA

The common room was empty, except for yet another sleeping body strewn about on the couch. As I stepped inside, my eyes drifted around the common room. I have looked at the decorated stone walls tens of hundreds of times, maybe thousands in these last years. A portrait of The Grey Lady focused her intelligent eyes on me, they leisurely glided along my body; up, down, to my face and then my feet. I do believe she was astonished my tiny white feet were now covered in smart black shoes, for in the common room this was not usually the case. I smiled at her, she is one of few that always smiles back. My memory flickered to a time when she helped me with my Arithmancy homework, and we quietly chatted for hours after.

"Luna my dear, you have a hole in you stocking," she verbalized. She broke me of my daydreams, and reality slowly focused back into my eyes. I replied, "Oh! Do I? Thank you for telling me, I wasn't aware,". She only smiled and nodded. I returned the act of kindness. "Goodnight Helena," I whispered. "I hope to see you in the morning, my dear," she said.

I stroked the raven's statue, which stood as the doorknocker to my dormitory. The graceful bird murmured, and slowly stepped aside, its bronze figure glowing amidst the fire. The moonlight shone through the windows walking up the stairs, exploiting itself along them. I moved slowly, one foot per step, hear the light snap of each echo through the spiral hallway.

The dormitory was dark, and it was obstinate to make out the shapes of sleepers and Hogwarts trunks, packed with physical memorials and school uniforms. The heater stood a pillar in the middle of the room. This always reminded me of the hub, making each bed a spoke and the room a giant wheel. Throughout my first year, I often had dreams of the room rolling about, a floating wheel taking me through the sky, around the school grounds, and back to its original placement.

I made my way to my bed, hearing the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping ones around my. My small cat, Adelaide, lay on the windowsill, facing the outside world. Her tiny paws shielded her face from the moonlight, which cast a glowing finish on her white fur. Cho shifted in her sleep; this was followed by a light murmur in the darkness, one of pain and sorrow, but in the same moment contentment and slumber. I stopped, not counting the moments, and watched her. Her face was erased from emotion, her long arms at her hips, her body only a motionless rod in the bed. I wondered what I looked like asleep, or if I murmured like Cho. I put the thought away, and shed my day clothes.

I stumbled around the room, trying to find the shadow of my trunk. After finally finding it, I found my nightgown and slipped it on. I scooped Adelaide off the window sill, slithered into bed and place her sleeping body next to mine. Her fur was warm, and a light purr erupted from her throat, creating a rhythmic lullaby customized for my mentality. Slowly and carefully, I slipped away into a wonderland far greater than the one I was leaving, and I inhabited the thoughts of only my dreams and wonders.

I dreamed of Neville, his long brown hair sweeping his eyes in a curtain of brunette, peeking out the bottom of this curtain, like an eager child waiting to go onstage before a school play. I never liked plays; I rather liked reading books about imaginary characters, or better yet, creating them. Why should one pretend to be another, when it is obvious they are not that person? In the dream, he and I were in the forest, watching the sun go by as the hours passed. I studied his expressions, they adjusted from the usual anxious to peaceful, and then to thoughtful.

He finally looked to me, and said, "Why do you think so much?". I stared. Nobody had asked me this before, ever in my life. Now, I was thinking inside my dream. Why do I think so much? Had I never taken the mere moments to ask myself why I do? Is it a born interest? An instinct? Are some brought into this world with an interest for everything that is just vaster than others? Or have I been living inside myself for so long, I have grown accustom to answering my own questions, and getting to know others through my thoughts?

I broke the silence by answering, "I'm not quite sure. I do not know if this is a question of thinking or not. Perhaps this is a inquiry of envisioning.". He did not reply. He only studied my face, and after a long moment looked into the deep trees and life of the forest. I wonder, is Neville secretly like myself? In a perfect world, possibly he is afraid of himself, watching how I am treated, scared to unleash his thoughts into this judgmental world, but provoked by the risk of being diverse. This is a tantalizing thought to me. But he still said nothing. Minutes passed. I finally shattered our silence. "Neville, are you afraid of yourself?" I timidly asked. He looked at me. He whispered, "Is it pathetic?".

I said nothing. I only lunged forward and grabbed him. This was the most aggressive I believe I have been in my life. I gripped his warm body, taking in his scent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and cradled my face into his left shoulder. He seemed taken aback, I almost felt guilty. He clutched me back. I snuggled my head into his shoulder, and he said, "Thank you.".

Dreams like these have always confused me. Are they teasing me, telling me something, or merely animating what I want? I decided to ignore it, and start another day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Great Hall was filled this morning; perfect, I can observe many more than usual. I watched the ravenous fingers of different color plucking the cooked food off the many trays, and onto their soon packed plates. Mouths chewed, some in a circular motion, others up and down. The clicking of shoes on the floor collided with each other, forming an out of synch society of snaps and ticks.

Albus Dumbeldore was perched happily at his high chair, cheerfully munching at his rosemary toast, a type of bread I know he enjoys eating. He eyed his pumpkin juice – then the jug of pomagranate juice; and a curious look captured his aged features. He smiled, and I counted; one, two, three, four; he quickly but carefully grabbed the pomagranate jug, and poured a spot (I guessed perhaps a few ounces, but I cannot be sure enough) of the burgundy puree into his pumpkin juice goblet. The claret extract of pomagranate invaded the orange, creating a cloud of deep red in the once ginger pigmented drink. He watched, intrigued by his simple yet uncommon creation. He smiled to himself, pleased with his choice of imagination and creativity, and took a cautious sip. His eyes traveled around the room for a moment. This action was followed by a satisfied smile, and an expression that seemed as if he "hmpf"ed to himself. I could not be sure, for the man was a least 60 feet away from me.

I was broken from my musing by a cold snap of attempted humor. A voice whipped into my ears, "Aw, does Loony Lovegood have a crush on Long-botty, now? Its alright, freak, I won't tell a soul.". I slowly focused my eyesight to the person above me. It was Michael Corner, and I could not help but stare at him bemused. He chuckled, and said, "Oh no no no, don't tell me your _stupid _too!". I did not understand what he was talking about. I simply replied, "Well, erm, Michael, I do not know why I would tell you something like that. I barely know you. Don't you think that seems like something that would be a bit obvious, but not announced to strangers?". "Don't be smart," he sneered.

This is one of many sayings fellow students have at Hogwarts that I never quite understood.

Now that I think of it, was I really staring at Neville? That _is _odd, I could have sworn I was looking at Professor Dumbledore. People do confuse me, perhaps this is why I don't talk to them quite as much as I read. I have noticed fictional people are not as baffling as real ones.

I decided to let it go and forget about stray Michaels and petty Rochelles. I made my way to Defense Against The Dark Arts alone, as usual. I watched the first years cheerfully skipping down the halls, in talk of other students, difficult homework, or simple a funny story. It sometimes upsets me that I have no memories of this type to hold of my own, but I do not mind in the same moment. I have always told myself funny stories, read to myself before bed, and skipped and strolled by myself. It has always been this way, and I do not recall a moment where I felt unhappy about it. Some people's ways of life are just different than others, quietly veering off onto their own paths, learning lessons customized for their mistakes.

The castle had a jovial flush to itself, with illuminated stained glass windows, majestic architecture, and a slew of curious students pervading the walls. I slowly walked, taking the beauty in like a slow, clean breath of air. I recorded my step pattern; one, two-two, three, four-four. Playing this innocent game with myself passed the walking time to my class rather quickly, for the dark wood door to the DADA classroom presented itself in a feeling of seconds.

Its odor remained the same, a sullen smell of musk and mothballs, dust, and textbook paper. The sunlight shined through the right side of the room, and a number of twenty-five desks lined themselves in rows in the center of the room. Sometimes these desks were arranged in a half circle, reminding me of a Grecian amphitheater. Empty cages lay unoccupied on the shelves, with many tiny teeth marks and claw scratches decorating the tough steel bars of each cage. I watched the dust particles float inside the sunlit air, cascading from the many windows. A single spiral staircase at the front of the long rectangular room led to another dark wood door, where Professor Lupin emerged every morning, inspired by a new topic to inform us of. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of the inside room, a stray bookcase, a globe sometimes. What always stuck out to me were a detailed painting of the werewolf anatomy, as well as a painting of the full moon hanging on the wall.

Though one may scoff and question the importance of a silly painting of a moon, this intrigues me by its details. On the bottom of the hill, a black shadow stands and watches the moon. This shadow looks like a dog taught to walk, but looks pained by the sight of the moon. Shredded clothes lay lifeless at the shadow's feet, torn by force. The initials, "LP" are painted in the right hand bottom corner, with a smiley face next to it. I wonder to myself often who "LP" could be, but they must have been artistic in their youth. Perhaps they still are. The painting is old I noticed, so this must have been done at least twenty years ago.

Nobody has ventured to the high office of Remus Lupin, nor has anybody been invited. I sometimes wonder if Professor Lupin is perhaps hiding something in his office, a secret above the cold stone stairs. He hesitantly steps out of his office, and greets at the top of his stairs, "Good morning, class. Eager to learn about the dangerous components of being young witches and wizards, I see?". The class responded agreeably, with nods and hums of positivity. He motioned like he wanted something from us. "Well, give me a suggestion?" he verbally prodded.

The room echoed silence. All but few tired yawns and scratching of quills separated the class of young adults and the silence. Hermione peacefully but eagerly raised her hand, shaking the brunette locks of long hair out of her face. "Ms. Granger, always the first to inquire. Yes?" he said. "Professor Lupin," she began, almost hesitant to ask her readied question. She seemed to mentally assure herself, and continued, "I'd like us to learn about werewolves.". He seemed taken aback by this question. His eyes widened for a brief second, but shrank back to their normal size. He tensed; this seemed to almost be a tender topic for him. "Well, Ms. Granger," he stammered. "Absolutely, if you please." He carefully finished.

"Since the very beginning of magic," he started. Hermione readied her quill. "There have been mysterious furry creatures lurking about the world, muggle and wizarding. These 'creatures' I speak of, can vary from your beloved Crookshanks to…larger furry creatures. These, my dear pupils, are werewolves." Said he.

Hermione nodded, perhaps to herself, as if she had only just proven something to herself. Professor Lupin shot her an inquisitive look, an expression almost reminding himself to watch his words with this young and intelligent woman. "Werewolves comprise an unexplainable connection with the full moon, and undergo a painful transformation into wolf form whenever it approaches. I don't advise one to take a walk with a werewolf on a full moon, unless they hope to perish a bloody end to their lives." He lightly chuckled. He watched the unison of quills racing across the many shades of tan parchment, some pieces shifting under the eager hands of note takers. Without raising his hand, Draco Malfoy rudely interrupted, "So some people just turn into violent beasts every full moon? What a shame!" he sniggered.

Professor Lupin however did not laugh in return. He only calmly ambled down his balcony-of-a-staircase to the beaten brown-red wooden flooring that lined the ground. He itched his face, an expression of unclassifiable emotion lying on it. "Not exactly, Mr. Malfoy," he finally responded. "The human being is turned into a werewolf due to an infection named Lycanthropy. As one may imagine, this infection usually comes into the body by means of a transformed werewolf bite, and then travels through the bloodstream until every _drop_-" he snapped his fingers at the word, "is consumed by the infection. And yes, Mr. Malfoy, there is no cure." He replied. Malfoy only snorted, ignorance fueling the dismissive sound.

After questions of claws and comments of moons, the tired clock in the front of the room moaned a somber tone, signaling the end of class. Draco thrust his books into his arms, and left the classroom first. His footsteps punched the floorboards rougher than the others, making his violent strides unique against the calm ones of everyone else. The others filed away, and off to their next classes. Professor Lupin watched his students leave, a blank expression shielding his face from his feelings. His eyes moved about, every few seconds traveling to the window, painting a beautiful view of the lake. The water was now a captivating shade of emerald, with a pearlescent layer of clear on top, giving it a sparkling sheen, unlike any other body of water I have seen.

Professor Lupin broke the silence, "Beautiful, isn't it? It would be all right if you stayed to absorb my favorite part of this school on a free day, but you should head to you next class Luna.". I glanced at the aged clock, and collected by belongings to leave. "Yes, I probably should. Thank you for reminding me Professor Lupin, I tend to forget certain things. Such as time limits…" I drifted off. "No, Luna, that's quite alright," he chuckled. "It is always a good thing when a Professor must remind a student to leave their classroom." He said, an injection of humor in his voice. I smiled and left the classroom.


	5. A Cold Christmas

**Authors Note:**

**I'd just like to say, thank you so much for all the positive feedback about this fic! If you read this, review it PLEASE. I'm using this to enter into a writing portfolio I'm sending to a school, so I need all the constructive criticism I can possible get. Thanks!**

**Three Months Later**

Christmas fell into the arms of Hogwarts, embracing it with snowflakes and hung mistletoe decorating the grounds, sneaking up on you seemingly every chance it got. I had never found a large problem with the season. In fact, I liked it the most out of all four. Sometimes it gets a little cold, but, I suppose you cannot have everything, as I hear Dean Thomas say quite a bit whenever he gets his DADA tests back.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley had been strolling about the chilled castle, always toting their strange map and quietly chatting in their cluster of three. Neville and I had been spending time together; lots, to be exact. We liked having conversations nobody understood. It seemed to give our friendship an invisible lock, disabling anybody to ever figure our strange relationship out.

It was a cold and frosty day, one of many in the sheet of winter ice that coated the school for five chilling months. I exited the Charms classroom, and I was free. The weekend was now here, and I could finally work on my very deserving schoolwork, and I knew I had much of it to do. Though as much as I tried, thoughts of Neville drifted into my conscience any chance they could, and permeated my thoughts at random.

The halls were abandoned, deserted by those in Hogsmeade, or some taking advantage of the warm fire in their common rooms. The cold never bothered me; mummy and I always took strolls in the dead of winter together. She would carry me in her arms, myself looking like a lump of wool in my winter attire. I remembered her pale skin, the same pale skin that coated my very bones that glowed among the tiny flakes of snow that fell through the air in a light blizzard. She would hum Celtic tunes into my reddened ears, and I would close my eyes, feeling the cold rush of winter on one side of my face, yet the warmth and comfort of mummy's coat on the other.

A sudden crack of collision racked through my eardrums, forcing me to whisk myself around in shock, to see what had just happened. A confused, embarrassed Neville Longbottom sat on the floor, with three books accompanying him. The boy looked nervous; but then started to chuckle at his own 'smooth moves' as he put them. I sat calmly on the floor as well; the situation was quite funny for the both of us, besides the low pulse of the pain growing in my bum.

"Luna," he stammered quickly. "I'm so sorry, here, let me help you up," he threw out of his mouth, as he grabbed my arm to bring me back onto my feet. It was a nice gesture, I must admit, but he seemed eager to touch me, I must say. His hands lingered on my arm after he helped me up. I quietly asked him (though nobody was in the hallway) "Neville, is there a reason you are not letting go of me?". He quickly glanced to his arm lingering on mine and said, "Oh, erm, not particularly…" he trailed off. I could only reply "Oh, okay," as I noticed he was _touching _me.

We stood there for a few moments, relishing in the flock of seconds passing our minds by. After I even asked him why he _was _touching me, still he didn't let go. It didn't upset me either. We heard footsteps a few minutes later, which startled us greatly; it had been about fifteen minutes of us standing there, not saying enough to be considered a conversation, more just staring at each other, and naming random fact about each other's appearance. The footsteps trailed off, around the corner, and silenced.

The seconds passed, dragging themselves out of the clock's warm blankets and comfortable mattress. Neville suddenly started tugging on my arm, and running toward the end of the hall. Instinctively, I ran too. Our steps quickly punched the floor, each becoming faster, and longer. The castle whizzed by me, slipping under my feet, and with each step the stone faded to wooded bridge, to stone stairs, and to grass. Neither of us said anything, we only silently ran, Neville intently leading.

We trudged and ran through the snow and ice, its tiny flakes rushing around us in a fury. Neville still didn't say a word, and neither did I. After running for so many minutes, he abruptly stopped in the forbidden forest and said nothing still. I touched his back lightly, feeling his spine through his sweater. His movements were quicker than light; he spun around instinctively and grabbed my shoulders, throwing my hair in my face. His eyes laid intently upon mine; his gaze was unbreakable, a stone barrier in a world of imperfection.

"Snow," he murmered. My eyes widened, a mannerism I always have had when I try to think. "I love snow," he continued in a shakily unreadable voice. "I love snow, and I love you," he continued. My body stayed in its place, captivated by these simple yet catastrophically beautiful, wonderful words. "I love the sweet calmness of both, snow and you. Your so wonderful, Luna, I don't even understand my love enough to tell you about it. No long speeches, Luna. No poetry, no roses, no anything. I really, really love you." he said in a forceful yet timid voice, never breaking the gaze between us.

I could do nothing at all except smile, and whisper, "Me too.". We broke into a cheerful laughter that nobody or anything could understand, and felt a feeling that seemed not a living thing could understand as well, not even us. In my eyes and mind, the sun was shining, but it still was snowing strong; the song of the wind was beautiful, but had no rhythm. It seemed for that moment, not a single thing in the world made sense, nothing. But that it was made life and love so very blissful; love is the largest, most thought about mystery, but is a puzzle with no pieces. It is the question that goes unanswered, yet unasked in the same moment.

I took his hand, and watched the smile on his face brighten like a thousand stars. He picked my small body up, into his arms, as I pressed my lips to his. They were almost bleeding with questions, yet silenced by the thousand answers crawling in their hungry flesh.

I'm not sure how long we stood, there, kissing, then stopping, and kissing again. It seemed the clock had broken into thousands of pieces, each piece flying into heaven and hell, never to be thought of again. But the sky was darkening, and the snow was calmer in the air, peacefully falling through the sky and beyond.

He finally whispered, "We should probably walk to the castle. It'll be dinner soon, and I'm hungrier than Ron after Charms. I could only smile and say, "I'm sure the Thestrals won't mind us leaving,". He laughed, a beautiful, deep chuckle. "Whatever you say, Luna," he said happily. And with that, he took my hand and we cheerfully walked to the castle, chatting about life and the intervals of it, while the snow battled on through the air.

_**Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.**_

_**-Author Unknown **_


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